


The End of the Cul-de-Sac

by dejame



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, listen i know i already posted this months ago but i'm a self-conscious hoe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejame/pseuds/dejame
Summary: "I don't think my parents have ever loved each other. My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the culdesac and started their nuclear family.Screw that."Or, the world needs more polyamorous ships and stoncy is here to save us





	1. Jonathan Byers

On the day that the Byers family moved to Hawkins, Indiana, the clouds took hours to let loose their rain. It forced the town to go about their lives in grey and made everything move in slow motion. Tree branches could barely sway in the on-again-off-again breeze. Birds lagged in the sky like their wings were covered in molasses.

Mr. Kaminsky, a sophomore chemistry teacher who usually kept his room flooded with natural light throughout the day, resorted to the manmade fluorescent tubes attached to the ceiling. The harsh light bounced off the black lab tables and made Johnathan Byers’ eyes squint every time he glanced down.

“Excuse me?” He looked up.

There Nancy Wheeler stood, her posture impeccably straight. Her books (thick, with all their titles starting with ‘Advanced Placement’) were pressed tightly to her core and behind her stood a taller, wider girl with curly red hair and coke bottle glasses.

“Uh, yeah?” All sentences received by pretty girls and gifted from Jonathan’s mouth started with introductory phrases like “uh” or “um” or “ah” and heavily implied that he was mentally impaired in some way.

“Is this your first day with Kaminsky?”

“Um, it’s my first day period.” He wanted to curl into a ball. “I just moved here.” Her blue eyes sparkled and her pink lips quirked up into a smile. Color rushed to her cheeks and Johnathan thought, simply, _Damn_.

“Really? From where? Out of state?”

“Oh, no. Just Indianapolis.” She dimmed as the excitement left her. It was only after she stepped back that he even noticed she’d come closer. _What’d I say wrong?_ The warning bell rang, and the redhead pushed forward.

“You’re sitting in her seat. We’ve got lab partners, so…assigned spots…yeah.” He grabbed his things quickly. Nancy started to blush again, embarrassed.

“The seat behind you’s empty.” He didn’t respond, too busy shoving his empty notebook into his bag of hardly-used school supplies. “I’m Nancy.” When he caught her eyes, there was a shift in the otherwise dull atmosphere. This whole day had been sluggish, grey, and without purpose. And while her smile did not change the weather or bring him answers to the meaning of life, it did provide him with a warmth that spread through his stomach; it did answer why the day had been so grey: her eyes had scraped all the blue from the sky.

Jonathan Byers realized that Nany Wheeler was beautiful, not pretty.

At least, she wasn’t _just_ pretty. OK, well, maybe physical attractiveness did have something to do with it. But she was being nice. Nicer than girls who looked like her usually were to boys who looked like him.

He said, “I’m Johnathan.”

She smiled again. “Hello, Johnathan from Indianapolis.” He wondered what the protocol was now. Shake her hand? Keep staring at her? Wait for _her_ to do something?

Outside, thunder cracked and lightning ripped up the sky. The other girl cleared her throat.

“I’m Barb.”

They took their seats. Johnathan settled into the metal chair and found himself looking for a safe place to land his eyes. The tables still reflected the harsh manufactured lights. Nancy and Barb had commenced conversation about a boy named Dustin who wouldn’t leave Nancy alone last night.

Just as it occurred to him that she may already have a boyfriend - or, at the very least, several admirers – in sailed the most attractive teenaged-boy Jonathan had ever seen.

Which is a purely objective statement.

It’s not as if he’d been scoping out boys, but the entire room quieted once he’d entered. Eyes followed him as he made his way to Nancy’s table and kneeled beside her. He must’ve overheard the last bit of their chatter because he asked, “Who’s Dustin?” And then, “I got competition?”

Jonathan looked down and faced the harsh light on his desktop.


	2. Me

(It is here that I, your modern narrator, will inject several timely pieces of information that I’m sure you could easily summate yourself, given the context of this story.

However, it is relevant.

However, it saddens me a bit. I’ll keep this short.

The Center for Disease Control has refrained from offering a name to the pandemic sweeping across the nation at this time. In September – next month – it will be dubbed AIDS; and it will not be well-handled at all; and misinformation will spread, increasing rates of both homophobia and racism.

For now, though, it is called “gay-related immune deficiency” or, if you’re the vulgar type, “gay cancer.”

In this year, 1982, a United States Congressman reveals himself to be homosexual after his sexual relationship with a 17-year-old subordinate is found out. He is censured.

Thus far, the only American state to ban discrimination against homosexuals is Wyoming, which is – roughly – about one thousand, three hundred and twenty-one miles away from Hawkins, Indiana, give or take a few dozen.

Unfortunate.)


	3. The Harrington Family

The Harrington family had a lot of money. If anyone were to ask Steve where it came from, he would list several detailed stories of entrepreneurship, lavish investments, and charity organizations.

However, these stories were fabricated, intricate lies he’d made up by the age of ten because his parents were never home.

However, no one did ask.

When you have money in a small, largely upper-middle-class neighborhood, no one cares where you got the money from, only that you have more of it than they do.

Steve Harrington had a lot of money and, if he were being completely honest, he didn’t know where most of it came from. He did know his parent’s owned properties in New York and a beach rental in Miami. His father owned several somethings that somehow thrived somewhere. His mother bought and sold small businesses on both American coasts. She occasionally came home for Christmases.

About a decade ago, before Steve was old enough to understand, she’d bought almost the entirety of Hawkins, Indiana after the local businesses had been hit with a town treasury scandal. Businesses were shutting down. Citizens had to choose between heat and light.

His mother explained, “Your father doesn’t want you to grow up near the business. It’s too finicky.” Steve, at eleven, did not know what ‘finicky’ meant, nor why it would keep a father from raising his son. “And I move around too much to stay with you.”

So she bought Hawkins out of its hole.

So the town worshipped the Harrington family.

So Steve Harrington was the best thing since sliced bread.

On the day the Byers family moved to Hawkins, Indiana, after the last school bell rang, he waited outside the front entrance until Nancy Wheeler came out with her books and her smile and her Barb and asked, “You ladies want some company?” He followed them down the front lawn and into the parking lot, pointing them toward his BMW.

“There’s a new boy in Chemistry,” Nancy said.

And Steve asked, “So?” She rolled her eyes. Barb blushed.

“I think Barb’s got a crush on him.”

“I do not!” The pale skin around her freckles burned red. Steve laughed.

Nancy went, “She was all, ‘I’m _Barb_.’”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“You did!” Nancy turned to Steve. “He was sitting right behind me. You saw him, right?”

“Oh, I don’t see anybody else when you’re around.” He said it flippantly, a constant flirt. Nancy was used to it and knew it was a joke, but she still had to look away. Barb stopped walking. They halted.

“What?” Nancy asked her.

“I can’t hang out. I gotta go to work.” Nancy’s eyes widened. They always had moments like this. Barb could only handle Steve in small bursts. Nancy’s blue eyes cried, _Don’t screw this up Barb!_ Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“I can drop you off,” he said. “It’s Benny’s, right?”

“Yeah, but I think I’ll just catch the bus. You two go on. It’s fine.” And she left. Nancy watched her stalk off. Steve wrapped his arms around her.

“Alone at last.”

“Steve.” She pulled back. “Not in public.”

“No, come on. No one’s watching.” She glared. He raised his hands in surrender, but his smirk stayed in place.

She said, “Barb never hangs out with us.”

“Some people don’t like being the third wheel.”

“That just means we exclude her.”

“Well, I could kiss her too next time if it’d make you feel better.” She slapped his arm. He gasped, scandalized, before opening the passenger door for her. In a dainty voice, he cried, “Not in public!”


	4. The Wheeler Family

“Welcome to Benny’s Burgers. How may I help you?” Barb straightened her glasses and tried to ignore the giggling coming from a booth beside the register counter. She glanced up at the customer before her and blinked. “Oh. Hi.”

Jonathan lifted the left corner of his lips into an awkward smile. “I was wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“Oh, always.” The laughter got louder. Jonathan glanced toward it, and Barb pushed back a lock of springy red hair. She slid a paper forward on the checkered countertop. “Fill this out and I’ll tell Benny you’re interested. Odds are he’ll call you by tonight.” More giggles. “It’s hard to find people who are willing to flip burgers in this town.”

Jonathan looked away from the booth. “Do you know them or something? Are you friends?”

“No. That’s Carol and Tommy H. Don’t talk to them. You’ll waste your breath.”

Jonathan took his application and nodded in thanks. “Noted.”

The bell chimed on his way out.

  **0o0**

There was something awful lurking within the town of Hawkins, Indiana, but it seemed as though Nancy was the only one to notice it. When she was younger and unafraid, she would march around town dragging Mike along with her, ready to start an adventure. It became immediately apparent that the woods had secrets and that the gates buried deep inside them were built primarily to keep strange things in rather than curious children out.

As the years went on, she was increasingly forced to come back inside. She’d ruin her dress out there. Her nails and face were never to be so dirty again. Stay inside, her parents ordered, and read a book. Learn to cook. Clean with you mother, dear? Keep her company.

On the day the Byers family moved to Hawkins, Indiana, after Steve dropped Nancy off at home, she set the table while her mother shinned the silverware. Through the window, she saw Mike, Lucas, and Dustin mount their bikes and head off into the world. She pinched her lips and turned to her mother.

“Why do you we have a china cabinet?”

Her mother laughed. “To hold our china.”

“OK, follow-up question.” She slammed down a perfect fork next to a perfect plate. “Why do we have so much china that we’re not allowed to eat off of?”

She laughed. “You can eat off the china. We just… save it for special events.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” she sighed. “Your graduation. Or Mike’s. Something special.”

“So we have to wait two more years before we can to eat off the glazed plates?”

“What’s this attitude? Where’s it coming from?”

“It doesn’t make sense to own so much of something when we don’t use it. What’s the point of a pretty plate we don’t eat with? I mean, dishes are meant to get dirty.” She glared. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Her mother blinked. Nancy heard her father flip a newspaper page from his seat in the living room.

Her mom said, “Maybe you should sit upstairs until it’s time for dinner. Get a start on that homework.”


	5. Nancy Wheeler

Many boys fought for the heart owned by Nancy Wheeler. She’d been oblivious to all of them until Steve. She didn’t know what she’d done, exactly, to get his attention. He dated popular girls, and Nancy hadn’t suddenly attended any party or hang out where she might’ve run into him.

He’d been single for two weeks – a new record, really – when he first approached her at her locker. Barb was home sick that day with a cold. When Nancy closed her locker, she was prepared to bus home alone and miserable. Steve politely tapped on her shoulder.

Like a true genius, she waited a solid minute before acknowledging him with a, “Huh?”

“I was with my friends-” He threw an arm back behind him, referring to Tommy and Carol and some other girl who was killing a stick of gum. “And I saw you and I just - I couldn’t concentrate. I’ve got to learn your name.”

She was too stunned to say anything other than, “I’m Nancy.”

“You’re beautiful, Nancy. Nancy what?”

“Nancy Wheeler.”

“You’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler.” He shook her hand. “I’m Steve Harrington. It’s nice to meet you.”

He chased her through hallways after that. He tugged her into bathrooms and broom closets. He begged day after day for a date and she always said no.

He’d make grand proclamations about how far he was willing to go. And because he’d sometimes say something she was sure he’d said a thousand times before to some other girl, and because he’d sometimes say something she was sure he’d said just for her, she’d respond, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

In her head, she’d manifested the idea that he was trying to hide her. But he wasn’t. His friends knew. The school knew. He claimed he’d even mentioned her to his mother.

She realized it was the other way around during a dinner with her own family. Mike, who was far too observant for his own good, was dangling the information over her head, eager to expose her to their conservative parents. But she wasn’t embarrassed. Only scared, though she wasn’t sure what of.

Perhaps the only thing wrong with their relationship was that it upset Barb. She and Nancy were too close to be separated by a boy, but that didn’t stop one from being lonely without the other. Nancy mulled this over as she tossed in her bed.

She could see why Barb liked the new boy. He was messy looking. Sort of dangerous. Foreign, but not _too_ different or out of the ordinary. He’d do fine for her.

 _Then it’s final_ , she thought. She’d get them together and her social life would be complete.


	6. It's Still Summer in This One

Just before the air became crisp and the summer became fall, Barbra Holland went missing. Her hand, sliced by a rusty can of Mr. Harrington’s old Ice House beer, called out to a monster she made no match for.

Three months later, Officer Hopper would emerge from what the kids called "the Upside Down” with a small boy in his arms. Nancy would look to him with hopeful, knowing eyes and he’d shake his head. Just like that, Barb would be done in Hawkins. Gone.

At the time, though, all Nancy knew was that Barb had managed to escape Chemistry. Mr. Kaminsky scrolled down the list, called, “Holland, Barbra?” and no one was there to answer. Nancy looked over at her empty seat and beat her ballpoint pen against the edge of the desk. She turned behind her.

“Hey, Jonathan from Indianapolis?” Jonathan looked up from his notebook.

“Uh, yeah?” He cringed. She smiled.

“You can sit beside me today. If you want.” Immediately, he tossed his supplies into his bookbag.

Before Johnathan could pull up the zipper, Steve appeared out of nowhere. He was always miraculous in this way. He never walked; he glided. He never entered a room; he captivated it. He slid into Barbra’s seat and offered a charming smile.

“The drive-in is gonna play the Halloween movies.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “So that’s, like, four hours?”

“Six,” he chastised. “Third one’s on the way, at least. I want you to go with me.”

“No dates.”

“Aw, come o-“

“Wheeler, Nancy?”

Nancy turned. “I’m here.”

Mr. Kaminsky cleared his throat. Asked, “Can I help you, Mr. Harrington?”

“No, sir,” he said. He gave Nancy a pointed look and stood. “I was just leaving.” Steve exited the class and, somewhere from the back, a girl sighed. Jonathan watched the door close before claiming the vacant seat. He shuffled a bit, uncomfortable with the warmth Steve left behind.

“We just started stoichiometry,” Nancy said. She pulled out her folder and flipped through color-coded notes. “I don’t know where you left off at your old school, but you can use my notes until you get the hang of things.”

“Thanks. Yeah, no, uh-“ Jonathan lowered his voice. “I kinda got put in here by accident. I barely even passed Bio last year.”

“Oh, Barb’s great at Bio. She can name all the bones.” She gauged his reaction and caught nothing. “You remember Barb, right?”

“Yeah. She got me a job, actually.” Nancy’s blue eyes popped.

“What?”

“I was stopping at different places on my first day. She left my name with her boss. I got a call as soon as I got home.” Nancy scoffed, amazed. _Well done, Barb._ “Tell her I say thanks if you see her.”

“Oh, I will.” Nancy watched him pull out his school supplies, each of them old and empty. Though the semester had just started, his notebooks were missing pages and all his pencils had bite marks, which indicated that he either fidgeted or owned a dog. She hoped it was the latter; Barb loved dogs. “We can tutor you. For free, too.”

Jonathan, for a reason Nancy misinterpreted, smiled for the first time since she’d met him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry the chapters are so short idk why i'm so obsessed with this aesthetic lol)


	7. Boys Will be Boys

Barb was not at work on Jonathan’s first day. Benny grumbled about training and punctuality in between his descriptions of the different stations Jonathan would have to manage by the end of the week. There were only two other employees, both well into their fifties, and when they weren’t asking for smoke breaks or time off for their grandkids’ music recitals, they were burning the food at the fry station or applying the wrong sauces and condiments to combo orders.

“If they mess up an order, just fix it yourself.” Benny wiped his hands on his dirty apron. “Believe me, it’s not worth it trying to tell them they were wrong.”

The day dwindled into night and Jonathan's feet were sending sharp jabs of pain up his legs every time he moved. Nevertheless, he mopped the floors, swept through the bathrooms, and cleared all the tables. Then, five minutes before closing, Steve came in and sat in a booth that’d just been cleaned for the night. Across from him, Tommy H. slid into his seat and dripped water onto the floor. He scowled. Steve laughed. To admonish him: “Not funny, Stevie Wonder. Not funny at all.”

“You deserved it.” Steve smiled. “You’re lucky Carol didn’t see.”

“Yeah, and what would she have done? Stone me?” Tommy glared around. He spotted Jonathan at the counter and snapped. “Can’t you see me soaking here? I could use a napkin or two.”

Jonathan swallowed a dollop of anger ( _I just mopped those floors,_ he thought.) and swiped up a napkin holder from behind the counter. He dropped it on their table. Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Where’s the salt and all that?”

“They’re in the back. We were about to lock up.”

Tommy scoffed. “There’s three minutes left.”

Steve shook his head as an apology. “We’ll just take two deli subs and be on our way.”

“You gotta order at the counter,” Jonathan said, and Tommy let out a surprised bark of laughter. He wiped his hand across his face and fluffed out his hair, sending droplets everywhere. Steve kicked him underneath the table.

Tommy piped up, “Waiter Boy says you gotta order at the counter.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just two sandwiches,” he said. _It's just we're basically closed._  Jonathan fumed and ran the numbers in his head anyways, trying to remember the price.

He said, “It should be around five bucks.” And Tommy laughed harder. Jonathan pictured Barb from the afternoon before, how she pinched her lips together every time Tommy’s chortles increased decibels. Johnathan had never felt such solidarity. Through gritted teeth, he asked him, “ _What_?”

Tommy said, “Steve don’t gotta pay!”

“And why not?”

Before Tommy could blurt again, Steve said, “It’s my mom’s shop.”

Doubtful, Jonathan asked, “Your mother owns a restaurant called 'Benny’s?'”

Tommy smirked. “His mother owns a _town_ called Hawkins.”

"Jonathan!" The three boys turned their heads. Behind them, Benny waved Jonathan over to the front counter. When he got there, Benny went, “Steve doesn’t pay.”

And Jonathan went, “I gathered.”

Jonathan made the sandwiches while Benny emptied the register. Gracie and Edith, the waitresses, clocked out and waved bye with one hand while stroking cigarettes with the other. The boys took their food to go and, after they were gone, Jonathan set to cleaning, wiping down the table and floor for the second time that night.

The bell above the door rang. Jonathan glanced up.

Steve was back, a crumpled five dollar bill in his hand. He shrugged. “A tip,” he said.

“Steve, come on!” Tommy shook the door, making the bell clang over and over again. They left. Jonathan pocketed the fiver.


	8. The Republican's Son

“Hey, Jonathan?” Will appeared in the doorway. His voice was high, but it still cracked and swooped down every now and then, remembering its plan to deepen soon. Will stepped back, embarrassed. Jonathan was sleeping. “Sorry, were you asleep?”

“No.” He waved his brother in. Will shook his head.

“I just had a question. The Republicans are the bad ones, right?”

“What?” he asked. Jonathan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Will entered the room completely, and he rolled his eyes because Jonathan had that Look on his face. The Look meant, “Sit and we’ll have a brotherly discussion” or, “Listen as I try to fill the void of our absent father even though you’re too young to miss him anyway.” or, “I am going to answer your yes-or-no question with neither a yes nor a no.”

Will closed the door behind him. He said, “I saw this sticker on Mike’s bag. It was for Reagan. And I said, ‘Isn’t he racist?’ And I said it like a question, but I wasn’t asking. I know he’s racist.”

Jonathan interrupted, “How do you know Reagan is racist?”

“Because of Dad.”

“What?” Jonathan rubbed his eyes again, unsure if he was still sleeping. “Who’s Mike?”

“This boy. Whatever.” Will took a seat at Jonathan’s desk and pushed over his camera and lenses so he could drum his fingers over the sanded wood. “So I said, ‘Isn’t he a racist?’ and Mike said no the same time Lucas said yes, so now I _definitely_ think he’s racist. But I don’t know what that means about Mike. You know?”

Jonathan pushed himself up against the headboard. They’d been in Hawkins for two weeks and he was already behind. Now, Will had Opinions and Friends and Friends with Opinions. All Jonathan had was a crush and a crappy minimum wage job. He wasn’t even keeping the money. His only check thus far had gone straight into his mother’s purse while she'd been sleeping the night before. She hadn’t asked, but he knew she needed it. The next morning, she kissed his head and pinched his cheeks. _Such a good boy._

It kind of made him feel like a dog.

“Maybe he’s just listening to what _his_ dad is telling him,” Jonathan mused. “Like you are.”

Will stopped drumming his fingers. “I haven’t even seen Dad in a year.”

“Yeah, but.” Jonathan ran his hands over his face. It was too late – or early? – to get into this. “So Mike’s your friend? And you’re worried he’s racist?”

Will groaned. “Never mind.” He stood up.

“Wait!” Will turned back around. There that Look was again. Always with the Looking. Will once had a nightmare where Jonathan Looked so hard at him that a hole burned through his chest.  He prepared himself for a speech, but instead, his brother said, “Arcade money.” Jonathan leaned over the side of the bed, dug through the pockets of a discarded pair of pants, and pulled out a five dollar bill. Will’s eyes widened.

“Where’d you get that?”

“What do you mean where’d I get it? I have a job.” He stretched his fingers out. Will felt a rush of shame flash up through his toes. Jonathan wiggled the bill. “Take it. Maybe you’ll play and meet some less racist friends.”

Will smiled. “We don’t know if he’s racist yet.” He took the money. “So far, he’s just republican.”

**0o0**

Jonathan finally saw the kid a few days later. He was taller than Will, and his nose was splattered in dark freckles the same way a young painter would splatter gold on canvas. He was leaning himself over the middle school’s bike holder while talking with friends. There are only three of them (Will, of course, then a shorter kid with curly hair and a black boy wearing an outfit straight out of a family sitcom) but the Kid, Mike, the Republican – he spoke as if talking to a crowd. His eyes were clear and focused and his nose scrunched up every now and then just from the pure intensity.

Jonathan tensed. There was something about the way Will looked up to him. His brown eyes so wide, his smile so genuine. Jonathan had never seen him like that, had never seen him happy anywhere outside of their old house and, now, their new one. He was happy for him – he really was – but a part of him wished Will would close up more. Maybe not show it so much in his face. The blush of his cheeks, the brightness of his eyes, how he laughed with his whole body and smiled with all his teeth. He was too obvious, too vulnerable. Somehow, Jonathan could sense a shark circling and passing nearby, waiting for the first drip of blood to leak out.

He honked his horn.

The boys looked over. Will said something to them and ran, jetting toward the passenger door and sticking his head through the window.

“Hey!”

“Hi. You ready to go?”

“Actually, I was gonna ask if you could drop us off at the arcade.” Behind him, the three boys stared at the car, eager for a response. Jonathan glanced over at them and, immediately, they all turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with the rust falling from one of the bikes.

“That’s Mike?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah. And Lucas and Dustin." Will fired up again. "Can you take us? Mike says one of the workers at the arcade gives him extra coins because he’s got a crush on his sister.”

“I gave you _five dollars._ ”

“We’re trying to beat the high score on Dig Dug.” Will leaned against the window. “Please? Please please please?”

Jonathan smiled. “Get in.”

In the car, no one talked for three whole minutes (Jonathan counted) until Mike finally broke the silence. “I’m Michael,” he said, and then his lips curled up. “No, I’m Mike.”

Lucas snickered. Joked: “Michael?”

“I wanted to try it.”

“It sounded stupid.” But it didn’t, Jonathan thought. Mike had an ease to him, a level of confidence that made any youthful doubt he might've possessed melt right off him.

“I’m Dustin, nice to meet you.” And he leaned up from the back seat, stretching the seatbelt as far as it could go, for a handshake. Jonathan nodded toward the road.

“I’m driving.”

“Oh, right.” And Dustin leaned back.

Lucas piped up, “Do you go to Hawkins High School?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know Nancy?” Jonathan’s eyes looked up at him through the rear-view mirror. It couldn't be.

“Nancy Wheeler?”

“That’s Mike’s sister.” Jonathan glanced over at Mike. He was non-responsive. Instead of commenting, he looked out the window and tracked the trees as they zoomed past. Yeah, Jonathan could see it. They both had high cheekbones, and their hair fell around their face with the same loose, carefree wave.

“I do know her, actually," he said. Mike got halfway through rolling his eyes before a smile spread on his face.

“She’s grounded.”

Jonathan asked, “Why?”

“She kept sneaking out to see her boyfriend." Jonathan's stomach turned. "And she broke a dish from my mom’s china cabinet while they were arguing. On purpose.” Mike pressed his nose to the window. “You’re passing it.”

Jonathan pulled the brakes, reversed, and let them out in the parking lot.

**0o0**

“What do you think of him?” Again: Will in the doorway, Jonathan in the bed. Jonathan sat up. He didn’t bother asking for clarification.

“Mike seemed nice, Will.” And again: a wide smile, a brightening of the eyes, a reddening of cheeks. Will closed the door behind him as he left, and Jonathan stared up at the ceiling, wondering how soon it would happen, how bad it could get.

(An answer: soon. And another: very.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the world is literally Ending sksksk


	9. I Can Make Things Disappear

**abra-**

When a boy like Steve Harrington takes interest in a girl like Nancy, sacrifices must be made. Barbara Holland was a necessary sacrifice.

“You can’t date him,” Barb told her once. They were in the library’s teen section, flipping through magazines and biology notes.

“Why not?” Nancy asked. It was sort of sarcastic, sort of ‘Why on Earth would I _not_ date him?’ It was one of many changes Barb was noticing. Nancy was sarcastic now. She flirted now. She wore makeup and brushed her hair now. She got annoyed by doing non-Steve-related things now.

“Because.” Barbara sputtered, searching for an answer.

“You don’t have a reason, do you?”

“I do.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I do!” Barbara narrowed her eyes. “You’ll just be like all those other girls. And he’ll get bored of you and move on.” Nancy tried not to take this to heart, but there was an implication somewhere in there that stung. Instead, she entertained the thought of it: dating Harrington, letting him break her heart, watching him move on to someone else like she never even mattered.

“So I should just ignore him, is what you’re saying?” Barbara nodded. “He’s not gonna leave me alone, you know that.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Well, not entirely.” Nancy bent forward, pressing the point of her chin against her binder. She batted her eyes up at her friend. “I _do_ like him back.”

“You like how he looks. You don’t like him.”

Nancy snapped, “You’re being pretty judgy lately, Barb.”

And Barb bit back, “You’re being pretty _stupid_ lately, Nancy.”

Nancy straightened and stared at her. Barb stared back.

Many boys fought for the heart owned by Nancy Wheeler. One girl guarded it. At that moment, Nancy decided she was done letting other people handle it in any capacity.

* * *

 

It was a necessary sacrifice. Her mother would never let her out of the house for a boy. Also, she didn’t have a license. The solution was a simple one.

“You say that you’re at my place and I’ll say I’m at yours.” In the dark, where the only illumination came from the street lights along the road, it was impossible to see the blush spreading over Barb's cheeks. “It’s fine. We’re not gonna get caught.”

Barb’s tongue stuck out as she thought. Finally: “But if we’re both lying that means we’re spending the night at Steve’s.” Nancy nodded. “I don’t want to spend the night at Steve’s.”

“Barb, he lives in, like, a _mansion_.”

“I don’t care about his house, Nancy.”

“I know. You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t care about him at all.”

“I didn’t say that.” They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Barb parked the car along the sidewalk. Steve's house was secluded and tall. The home in every horror movie. As Nancy stepped out into the street, Barb peered into the trees that thickened into woods just along the perimeter of his backyard. Spooky.

Nancy leaned through the window. “I can’t do this without you.” In Barb’s head, that was the perfect moment to turn up her nose, give a snooty _“Good.”_ and peel off down the street. But Nancy was her friend. Nancy was her only friend. So, Nancy was her best friend. (And, her worst, too, she guessed.) Barb opened her door and pressed the lock. Her car would be left there, stranded, for months.

**-cada-**

Unlike Barbara Holland’s, Will Byers' vanishing is noticed merely hours after it happens. Jonathan returns from school, smiling with the knowledge that Nancy knows his name and wants to know more of him. As soon as he tosses his backpack on his bed, the hallway phone rings.

He picks up. It’s Edith, screaming.

“No one can reach Barbra!” she hollers. “And Benny’s off doing God knows what. No one’s seen him since lunch break.”

“…What does that mean?”

“It means come in!” Jonathan held the phone away from his ear. Her shrilling was giving him a headache. “The place was a mess when I walked in. Looks like Benny just skipped in the middle of a rush. Left food out and everything.”

“Are you sure you need me? My brother-“

“ARE WE SURE?”

Jonathan hang up.

He grabbed his jacket and scribbled something on a post-it note. ( _Had to go into work. Don’t do anything stupid – Jonathan_ _)._ Absentmindedly, Jonathan acknowledged his brother wasn’t even home. When he dropped him off at school that morning, Will was high on pre-teen excitement, going on and on about Dungeons and Dragons and Mike Wheeler. As they swerved into the car lane and slowed to a stop, Jonathan sighed and faced his younger brother. Will noticed the Look and lost a bit of his glow.

But Will had a Look, too. Jonathan saw it every time he picked him up from school or dropped him off, every time he said Mike's name. Ignoring it wasn’t going to help anyone.

Jonathan readied himself to tell his brother that not everyone was going to see eye-to-eye with him. That the friends he’d made might not be his friends for life if a certain thing came to light. That, for now, Will should just keep it to himself. Maybe wait until college. Yeah. College would be better.

“Will,” Jonathan started. Then, knuckles tapped on the window. The brothers turned. Outside, Mike Wheeler gave a bashful smile and gestured for Will to roll down the window. He did.

“Can Will come over tonight?” It didn’t even feel like he was asking, but more like he was letting them in on a secret, on a future he’d already observed, on something inevitable. He looked over to Will and the two seemed to speak in an eager, secret non-verbal language. Simultaneously, they turned back to Jonathan and tried on their dopey puppy eyes. At that moment, Jonathan stalled. He glanced at Mike, then at Will, and thought, _M_ _aybe._ Just maybe.

“Did you already talk to Mom?” Will nodded. “OK. I’ll pick you up tonight, I guess.” Suddenly, Jonathan’s heart sped up. He’d ring the doorbell and Nancy would answer. Her eyes would widen in surprise. _What are you doing here?_ Maybe she’d invite him in and he could see the inside of the house she grew up in, the closet she raked through every morning, the embarrassing childhood photos her family hung on the walls.

Will slammed the car door, waking him up. “I don't need a ride,” he said. “I can borrow Mike’s bike.”

* * *

When Jonathan returned home in the early hours of the next morning he passed out before he could even reach his room. He woke up on the couch with his jacket placed over him like a blanket. It was his mother, he reasoned. He stretched and stood, found Joyce in the kitchen, and kissed her cheek. She fried eggs at the stove while he pulled open the fridge, and she blinked at the post-it note on the door.

“You left Will last night?”

“They needed me to come in. I thought the extra hours-“

“You can’t leave him alone, Jonathan. He’s barely thirteen.” She turned. “Will! Breakfast!”

Needless to say, Will did not eat that day.

 

**-bra**

When a girl like Nancy Wheeler takes interest in a guy like Steve, sacrifices must be made. He knew this in theory but not in practice. Should he cool it on the hair gel? Start studying so they could be in the same advanced classes? Go vegan?

“No,” Carol said, and she twisted her lips in disgust. “Why would you go vegan? That makes absolutely no sense.” Carol was the only female constant in Steve’s life; she was the only one who could give him advice. However, Carol was kind of a bitch; he needed to butter her up first.

Just before closing, yet again, Steve dropped in at Benny’s. He settled into a booth and watched as Jonathan rolled his eyes and made his way across the restaurant. Carol slid into the seat across from him and blew large bubbles with her gum. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and gave Jonathan a wink. Her hair was wet. Jonathan glared at the water dripping down to the floor.

“I’ve got a pool,” Steve explained, and he glanced around. “You guys missing staff or something? Place looks fucked.”

“Benny disappeared around noon,” Jonathan sighed. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared?’ He lives in this place.” Jonathan shrugged. Carol cleared her throat.

“I want a salad,” she said. She gave Steve a pointed look.

“Yeah, uh, she’ll have a salad.”

“Anything for you?” Jonathan asked. Steve’s eyes bounced around the restaurant, trying to put together things that Jonathan wasn’t at all curious about. He cleared his throat and Steve blinked.

“Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted something.”

“Uh, no nothing.” Steve plucked a napkin from the holder and dropped it to the floor. Absentmindedly, he used his foot to mop up Carol's mess. “Just the salad.”

* * *

Tommy lit a cigarette and inhaled. His eyes bounced from Steve to Carol to Steve again. He nodded his head toward him. “The fuck’s wrong with him?”

Carol swallowed a lump of lettuce, then said, “Nancy Wheeler won’t pick up the phone.” Tommy laughed, a big, half choking, sound. He yelled over at Steve.

“No worries, Stevie Wonder. You can find tang anywhere in this town.” To Carol, he smiled. “Some of it’s even free.”

She pinched his cheek until he winced and called him, “So charming.”

On the other side of the pool, Steve hang up the phone and tossed it onto a lawn chair. He wandered over to his friends. When he got there, Carol said, “You know, I don’t really like Nancy. You can tell she thinks she’s better than us.”

“She _is_ better than us,” Steve said. Carol scoffed. Tommy coughed. “That wasn’t even her. I was tryna reach my mom. The line’s busy.”

“Oh, jeez.” Carol ate with her mouth open. When Steve tried to look down to meet her eyes, he could see the dressing mix with the lettuce and streak to the back of her tongue. _Ew._ “Who cares about the Bart guy?”

“Benny,” Steve corrected. “Don’t act like you don’t know his name. You’re eating his salad.”

“Maybe he went on vacation.”

“Why are you trying to rat on the fat guy anyway?” Tommy flicked his cigarette embers into the pool. Steve watched them float down and dissolve into nothing.

“That’s my mom’s place. He can’t just leave. She’ll get in trouble.”

“Your mom owns half the town. I think she can suffer one burger joint.” Steve sighed. Every now and then, Tommy would open his mouth and all it felt like was hot air coming out to punish Steve for even speaking to him. Rather than offer a response, Steve kicked off his shoes, plucked off his socks, and dipped his feet in the pool. He closed his eyes and laid back on his elbows. Tommy chuckled, mainly to himself. He scoffed. “Nancy fucking Wheeler isn’t better than us.”

At that moment, Steve leaned back into the grass and resolved what his sacrifice would be.


	10. Barbara Holland

If Barb were to push past all the vines and grime covering her, she would see that she’s in a pool.

If she were to get out and wander about ten miles west, she would find a thirteen-year-old boy in an old playhouse, clutching a walkie-talking and humming a Clash song.

If she were to raise herself up and wait long enough, she’d meet Eleven, who would stare at her with large brown eyes and – eventually – promise to help her find a way back home.

To survive the Upside Down, one needs hope.

For Will Byers, this came in the form of friends and family. His brother, Jonathan, will find him. If not Johnathan, then his mother. If not her, then Mike, the boy who’d inducted him into his friend group after only one day. And Mike, when assisted by Lucas (strategic) and Dustin (courageous), could do anything. He remembered this in the cold, while sheltered by the house his family had just made a home.

For Barbra Holland, hope was dwindling. She’d taken to lying to her family. In fact, her lies to her parents had gotten her into this mess in the first place. And Nancy, being so consumed by her new boyfriend, was her last resort.

However, when she looked back on it, Barb didn't regret going to Steve’s party. It's true she didn’t like him that much, and she hated his friends. But when Nancy chose him over her, that felt like something she'd needed to see with her own eyes. If she'd heard about it through someone else, it wouldn't have landed. Her only friend left her to have sex. And, since she was Barb's only friends, she'd left her alone. She needed to know that, for some reason. She couldn't ignore that.

Barb had hope when she sat by the edge of the pool. She had hope when she waited, pressing a cold cloth to the fresh cut on her hand. She had hoped Nancy would come back. When her legs were tugged into the water and her head whipped back against the decorative tiles, her hope manifested itself into a desperate, loud scream for help.

Now Barb hoped her last word wouldn't be 'Nancy.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took...so many L's this month...but i am VICTORIOUS  
> and i DOUBLE UPDATED  
> because i am A BITCH


	11. The Wheeler Siblings

Nancy and Mike Wheeler have not been close for some time.

Neither of them misses the other. They barely exchange words.

To Nancy, this had more to do with their age difference. It was hard to relate with a middle-schooler when she had a boy who may or may not be her boyfriend, a best friend who wouldn’t answer or return calls, an upcoming Chemistry test she _knew_ she was going to get a B on (Nancy’s always hated Bs more than any other grade; she hates almost winning), and a mother who refused to let her out of the house after learning she had sex.

To Nancy, it had to do with Mike being a boy and, thus, being allowed to do all of the things she wished she could do. She felt envy — real, all-consuming jealousy — every time she caught him race out the door. Meanwhile, she spent her summers inside, vacuuming under her father’s feet.

So, maybe Nancy resented him a little. _But it’s fine_ , she thought. _He’s a kid. He won’t notice._

Mike noticed.

In fact, he kind of hated her. Or, no. Okay, maybe ‘hate’ was too strong.

He severely disliked her. He hated her yelling and her bitching and her secrets and how, when they were younger, they shared everything. It made him feel so foolish, spending so much time with someone only for them to grow up and move on without him. Like he'd never truly mattered to her.

The moment Nancy turned thirteen, there was a shift in the atmosphere. The second after she blew out her candles, she was glaring at him. The next day he went outside, she didn’t come with him. And you could blame it on age, or on gender, or on whatever you wanted to. The nonnegotiable fact remained in his head: she abandoned him.

(A part of him wanted to do the same thing to her. He often fantasized about biking so fast that he could fly to a faraway planet and leave her with nothing but memories. See how she’d like _that_.)

Regardless, they were not close.

Regardless, they still knew how to push one another’s buttons — sometimes, admittedly, without noticing.

Regardless, Mike noticed. (Mike’s always noticed everything; he hates almost losing.)

So when Nancy stepped into the dining room for dinner with a distant, confused look in her eye, he knew what she’d seen immediately. It was in her wide blue eyes, in her splayed fingers, in the togetherness of her eyebrows that made it seem as if even _she_ didn’t believe in what she was about to say.

Mike tensed in his seat.

Nancy stuttered. “There...I think..." Eventually: "There’s a girl in the basement.” Their parents, who are oblivious, set the table and flipped a page in the newspaper respectively. Nancy tired again: “Guys.”

Mike stood up. Quickly, he strode over to his sister, whispered “Shut up; it’s fine,” and, for the first time in nearly four years, grabbed her hand.

He tugged her out the dining room.

* * *

Eleven was small in height, in weight, and in general aura. Her eyes, though, were quite big. Huge browns blinking and blinking, saying everything she couldn’t manage to get out with words.

She didn’t know what to make of Nancy. Her big eyes stared and stared. Nancy covered herself, uncomfortable by being so seen.

Eleven asked, “Friend?”

And Mike said, “No.” And then, “Sister.”

“Sister?”

“Yeah, like a sibling.”

“Sibling?”

“ _What is going on?_ ” Nancy’s hands fumbled around until she found a place to sit. Across the room, Eleven huddled her boney legs into her arms, sat her head on her knees, and stared. Blink. Blink. Nancy looked away. At Mike, “What are you _doing?_ ”

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’” Mike reared back, offended. “We found her. She’s scared. She needed help.”

“Mike, that’s when you call the _police_.”

“The police? Like 'Officer Hopper, the alcoholic' police?” Mike glanced in Eleven’s direction. “Besides, we can’t call; they’re looking for her.”

“Then we should _definitely_ call.”

“No, the police aren’t looking for her. They’re-”

“The bad men,” Eleven piped up. “Bang,” she said, and she held her hand out in the shape of a gun to demonstrate. Nancy’s stomach turned.

“So your plan is to just keep her down here?” She eyed Mike. He was wearing a sweater their mother had bought him for his last birthday. His hair was growing out since their father had last cut it (haphazardly, and with cooking scissors). His freckles and his lanky arms and his young face. A little boy playing grown-up. Nancy shuddered. “With people trying to kill her, you can’t keep her down here.”

“No, it’s mutual.” Mike sat beside her. “We help her away from the bad men and she helps us find Will.”

“Find _what_?”

“We found her the night after he went missing.” And because she still wasn’t getting it: “Will Byers. He has a brother, Jonathan. He’s got a crush on you at school.” Nancy blushed. _Oh_. “You can’t tell Mom and Dad. I’ll get in trouble and they’ll make Eleven leave. And then Will stays missing and she dies.”

Nancy’s eyes were on the rug, mindlessly tracing the patterns as she tried to think and make sense of all that was being thrown at her. Mike snapped in front of her face. She looked up.

“You can’t tell, Nancy,” he said. “I’ll never talk to you again if you tell.”

**0o0**

Steve Harrington had called the house a total of thirty times before anyone answered. It was Nancy, finally. On the other end, he wandered through the halls of his empty home, his handheld jammed in between his ear and his shoulder as he carried snacks back to his room. He dropped them all when Nancy said, “Hello?”

“Nancy! Nance, I’ve been trying you all weekend.”

“I’m grounded. They only let me answer so I could tell you to stop calling.” Steve bent down at the waist to analyze his treats. All still edible. All still copasetic.

“That sucks. What are you grounded for? You never do anything.”

Because the answer was embarrassing, she instead asked, “Did you hear about Jonathan’s brother?”

“I guess not, because I have no idea who Jonathan is.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Jonathan from Chemistry. Remember? Barb’s crush. She got him the Benny's job?” And then, “You haven’t heard from Barb, have you?”

Steve said, “No. But if you see her before I do, tell her she’s gotta get her car from the front.”

“What?” Nancy’s heart skipped a beat.

“I mean, she can totally keep it here, but she has to pull it around back. They monitor the streets and HOA  _loves_ to ticket older model cars. The neighbors call ‘em out, think they’re cheap.”

“Steve.”

“I said _they_ think it, not me.”

“Steve, why would Barb’s car still be at your house? Shouldn’t she have driven it home?”

Steve shrugged. “I figured it wasn’t my business to ask.” From the background, he heard a parent yell to hang up the phone. Nancy pushed on.

“It shouldn’t still be there." Her hands started shaking. This was the worst moment, when you first realize something is wrong. When the sewers got stopped up during a storm, when the last time you saw your keys was when you were locking the car door, when the family car pulled into the driveway and you still hadn't taken the ham from the freezer. "I’ve been calling her room landline every chance I could and no one’s answered.”

Steve tried to hide a bit of hurt. She'd gotten the chance to call, and she hadn't called him. He tried to get over it. “Maybe her parents came and picked her up. A weekend getaway or somethi—”

_“Get off the line, Nancy!”_

“Mom, could you wait just a minute?” There was an angry clatter and the third line cut off. Nancy said, “Her parents think she’s spending the night at my place.”

Steve, not knowing what to do with this information, said, simply, “She’s not over _here_.”

Before Nancy could respond, her mother took the phone from her hand and put it back up on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sure wish i could update this fic consistently but what can i SAY depression is on my NECK  
> thanks for the comments and kudos! next chapter we're going🛫actual rising plot line


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